Gay Harry Potter-01-Top and Tail
by jerome1980
Summary: Prologue & Epilogue to previous postings of Gay Harry Potter-01. It is 1940. Tom Riddle uses physical & sexual violence on Harry's grandfather, learns an important technique and gets an important idea.


CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

_Tom Riddle_

ONE

_Forty-one Years Later: The Boy Who Lived_

TWO

_The Vanishing Glass_

THREE

_Someone, and Letters from No One_

FOUR

_The Keeper of the Keys_

FIVE

_Diagon Alley_

SIX

_A Kiss, and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_

SEVEN

_The Sorting Hat_

EIGHT

_The Potions Master_

NINE

_Midnight Duel and Midnight Feel_

TEN

_Hallowe'en_

ELEVEN

_Quidditch_

TWELVE

_The Mirror of Erised_

THIRTEEN

_A Day Out, Quidditch, then_ _Nicolas Flamel_

FOURTEEN

_Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback_

FIFTEEN

_The Forbidden Forest_

SIXTEEN

_Through the Trapdoor_

SEVENTEEN

_The Man with Two Faces_

EPILOGUE

_Tom Riddle_

— PROLOGUE — _Tom Riddle_

_The old Latine Words lost in the Late Wars are said to warn that he who wishes for Dark Magicke must refrain all Emissions. Especially _Emissiones in Hominem_. Especially that glorious but harmful Pedication causing _Emissio in Anum Pueri_ which so weakened divers Powerful Wizards in the Late Wars as to effect their Death._

_Is it not Strange? that all Emissions, excepting those of Constupration, are beneficent to Ordinary Magicke and harmful to Dark Magicke, even those Fornications and Irrumations _in Mulierem_ so beloved of Common People._

The fourteen-year-old boy closed the book thoughtfully and replaced it on the shelf in the Restricted Section of the library.

He was concealed under a Disillusionment Charm—a charm that he had recently learned and which had proved invaluable in his quest for knowledge of the Dark Arts.

In the corridor, he removed the Charm and walked slowly back to Slytherin, thinking hard.

He had only done _Fornicatio in Mulierem_ once: in that memorable cave—was it four years ago? —and that had been without emission.

He had never been tempted by females since: their body hair, their odours, their monthly bleedings repulsed him.

_Emissio in Anum Pueri_, which he had prefigured in that cave, was a different matter: since his arrival at Hogwarts, he had been revelling in that glorious pedication: raping—constuprating, he should say—little boys and, for the last year, squirting inside their bottoms.

He felt only mild regret that, in his single-minded pursuit of Power, he would have to forego sexual activity. It had always been a matter of Cruelty rather than Pleasure, and there were other ways to be cruel to people. . . .

He knew that, when he had left Hogwarts, _some_ Sex would be required of him—some Dark Spells called for it; but, for the present, Sex was out . . . except for one last task . . . one little Gryffindor first-year who had shown disrespect in the Great Hall.

Tom Riddle was a popular boy within Slytherin and within the school.

His popularity was mainly due to stunning good looks which, in his three years at Hogwarts, had progressed from simple, breath-taking prettiness to a new sort of adolescent beauty combined with a charisma that shrieked Power and Sex.

To his natural talents he added a calculated flattery of those in power, using his flashing eyes, quick wit and ready laugh to advantage.

But those who dealt with him had—albeit subconsciously—seen hatred in his eyes, cruelty and petulance in his lips and a chilling evil lurking underneath his laughter.

And there were rumours that he knew more about the Dark Arts than he should. But nobody could cite specific instances.

Handsome; clever; good company; frightening. It added up to an extraordinary glamour and most of the Hogwarts students—girls and boys—would do _anything_ for Tom.

There were exceptions: most notably, a small coterie of Gryffindors claimed to have "seen through" Tom Riddle and denigrated him at every opportunity. Unfortunately for them, there was no credible evidence that Tom was otherwise than what he seemed to be, so the Gryffindors fell back on schoolboyish lines of attack: Riddle's poverty; Riddle's toad-eating; Riddle's lack of parents; Riddle's dubious blood-status.

This was completely at odds with the Gryffindor ethos, and the anti-Riddle faction found themselves unpopular within their own house.

Sadly, there was one tiny, scruffy-haired boy whose squeaky voice was persistently raised against Riddle: Charlus Potter was a pureblood and more conscious of it than, perhaps, he should have been. He came from a family that had a centuries-old tradition of fighting the Dark Arts, and the presence at Hogwarts of one who was attainted as a practitioner fired his Potter blood.

One morning, in the Great Hall, little Charlus accidentally bumped into Riddle.

"Out of the way, Piddle, you awful orphan!" he yelled.

Few heard; and those who did were not interested, let alone amused: it was just a bit of meaningless gabble from an insignificant little squirt.

Tom Riddle heard, though, and marked down Potter for condign pain.

In Slytherin House, Tom jerked his head at Avery, the Head of House.

Avery and the five other members of Tom's inner circle followed him into his room—no-one had dared to refuse Tom's request for one of Slytherin's few single rooms.

"I'm giving up sex," he announced.

"Seems a bit sudden, Tom," said Avery.

"It's necessary."

They remained silent, though each of them knew that Tom Riddle's decision could only be connected with his ambition to become the most powerful wizard ever—powerful enough to defeat Death itself.

"Are we to give it up too?" asked Rosier, tittering in his effeminate way.

"No, you'll all need to do a bit more: we've got to keep Slughorn sweet."

The other six boys groaned.

"Merlin's beard!" said Mulciber, "The smell of his after-shave . . ."

"And his slug-body!" said Nott.

"And that boozy moustache!" said Avery.

"I take it I'm exempt," tittered Rosier.

"You're out," said Tom, "and Avery's out—we need our Head to be visibly righteous."

He flashed his charming smile and the others, happy that Tom was pleased with them, smiled back.

"Rota of four," said Tom, "But before I straighten up Slughorn, I'm going to straighten up that stuck-up little Potter—one last sex act; and I'm going to enjoy it . . ."

The others laughed. They were cruel boys and the thought of little Charlus Potter suffering gave them pleasure.

"Where, when and how?" asked Avery.

"Saturday morning; he'll be watching Gryffindor Quidditch practice. You lot create a disturbance and I'll take him to the old gamekeeper's hut under my own Disillusionment."

"Can we watch, Tom?" asked Rosier.

"No, I need you to confuse things so they don't notice he's gone."

"Consider it done!" said Avery.

"Get your clothes off."

"Wh-what are you going to do?" squealed Potter.

"Get your clothes off—or do you want another in the solar plexus?"

Potter stripped and stood staring with hate at Tom.

"Now, suck this."

"You can't . . . that's horrible! . . . UGH!"

Tom had punched him hard in the stomach, causing his mouth to open as he gasped for air . . . conveniently open.

"Suck harder!"

Tom had his hands on Potter's head, forcing it tightly against the groin. His thumbs pressed Potter's cheeks between top and bottom teeth—he didn't intend to be bitten.

He kept Potter sucking for a long time before releasing his breakfast fluids.

A great gush of urine filled Potter's mouth, then his stomach, then his lungs. Potter struggled hard, but Tom was much stronger.

He stepped back and laughed as Potter coughed and retched, crouching on all fours.

When Potter had recovered, he said: "Are you sorry for gratuitously insulting your betters?"

"Yes, I'm sorry Riddle; but I didn't deserve that," said Potter hoarsely—and bravely—as he reached for his clothes.

"What do you think you're doing? I haven't finished. Bend over the chair-arm."

"Oh, no! You've done enough! Now get lost!"

A further blow was enough to convince Potter to obey and soon Tom, excited not by the sight of the tiny bum, but by the thought of its forthcoming pain, rammed his way in.

"AAAAARRRGH!"

All courage had left Potter: he screamed, time and time again, as Tom thrust viciously, hard and long.

He was enjoying himself more than at any other time in his life. He wished he could be inside Potter, feeling his suffering.

Why not? He knew the theory, but had never dared to try.

He flung himself mentally at Potter. And succeeded! He was inside Potter's brain and feeling his pain; and fear; and shame. Not a touch of anger. So much for Gryffindor's courage!

Tom felt utterly elated.

He could _Possess_ people!

— EPILOGUE — _Tom Riddle_

"Tom, I asked to see you because Professor Dippet told me that Madam Higgins had reported a distressing case in the hospital wing."

"Oh yes, Sir?"

Professor Slughorn, sleek, tubby and still—just—young, took a sip of his teatime Madeira and looked at the boy who sat opposite him. Yes, Tom Riddle was the most handsome boy he had ever seen. And he was surely destined for greatness, and he, Horace Slughorn, would be known as the Teacher, Mentor and . . .

The Professor forced himself to abandon his dreams of glory: "The boy Potter," he said, "was admitted in a disturbed state and suffering from bleeding from his back passage. He alleges that you are responsible."

Tom Riddle laughed easily: "He would say that, Sir. It's no secret that he hates me, so of course he'd take the opportunity of getting me into trouble for something that his fellow Gryffindors had done."

"Yes, of course, Tom, and I informed Armando so. But Madam Higgins had a more serious worry."

"Oh yes, Sir?" said Tom, brightly.

"She's never seen a case, but she told the Headmaster that Potter had all the textbook symptons of having been Possessed."

Tom laughed: "Not by me, Sir! I wouldn't want to possess Potter; nor would I know how to."

"Im glad to hear you say so, Tom. Possessing people is one of the Darkest crimes and it's a one-way ticket to Azkaban. I must admit that if there's one boy in the school who might manage it, it would have to be you; and as to the physical matter, I know that you're more than capable . . ."

"You didn't _suspect_ me, Sir."

"No, of course not, Tom; but I'm pleased all the same to receive your assurances."

"Talking of physical matters, Sir, I've decided that, in the interests of wizarding proficiency, I must regretfully abstain from sex."

Professor Slughorn's face dropped: "But why, Tom? Sex is only a problem for Dark wizards."

"So the old writings say, Sir, but I doubt them: I've noticed a falling-off in my powers of magic after we've . . . Besides, it's giving me a lot of grief in the house."

"Why's that, Tom?"

"It's the other lads: their jealous; they all want to share your . . . kindnesses, Sir?"

The Professor perked up: "Is that really true?"

"Yes, Sir. They were quarelling among themselves when I told them of my decision."

"Good Heavens! I never suspected."

"Well, if you want to make four boys very happy, Lestrange, Mulciber, Nott and Dolohov are really eager to share your favours, Sir."

"I'm pleased and flattered, of course, Tom; but I shall miss your company."

"You'll always have _that_, Sir. You're a _terrific_ teacher. Perhaps you could tell me about Potter's symptons. Not to _do_ it, of course, but to be able to _recognize_ it. Did he have a face imprint, for example?"

"No—and hardly surprisingly: in all the recorded cases of a physical component the Possessor has been dead and nobody's died today!"

They talked for a while before Tom left.

"Goodbye Sir; and thanks."

"Goodbye Tom . . . would you ask Antonin to see me please?"

Tom left in the highest of spirits. He had a Great Idea and that vain fool Slughorn would help him achieve it.

First, though, there was the problem of Salazar Slythrin's Chamber . . .


End file.
